


Falling’s Just Like Flying

by Tysolna



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, One-Shot, POV First Person, Reichenbach Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 19:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tysolna/pseuds/Tysolna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I remember vaguely the frustration of not being able to stand and walk, of falling over and over again, annoyed that my body wouldn’t listen to my mind’s commands. There are some things that should not be deleted."</p><p>Standing alone on the rooftop of St Bart's, Sherlock muses about the sensation of falling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling’s Just Like Flying

There is this funny thing about falling. The feeling goes so far back in our evolutionary and personal history that there is an instant conflict in our brains. One part, the older part, knows the feeling of falling, but it also knows that it has the power to land - on a tree, caught by branches, safe - and the creature we used to be would swing, jump again, fall, and catch the next branch.  
The much younger, more personal part knows that with falling comes landing. When we were toddlers, every time we tried to stand up, to walk, we took the risk of falling, of hurting ourselves.  
  
I remember vaguely the frustration of not being able to stand and walk, of falling again and again, annoyed that my body wouldn’t listen to my mind’s commands. There are some things that should not be deleted.  
  
Watch a small child fall down and start to cry, and you will see surprise, betrayal and hurt. The body lets them down, and gravity takes over.  
For a very few of us, if we’re lucky, this is the only betrayal we’ll ever feel. Most of us though will be betrayed many times, by other people, by circumstances, by life. By those we call friends. Especially by those we call friends.  
  
Even as grown-ups all it takes is a stumble, and we fall head-first toward the pavement, head-first into our childhood. While we fall, our minds shut off, the confusion and conflict of the present too much. We only wake up to ourselves again when we land, painfully, on bloodied hands and knees and faces, not sure how we got there.  
  
The first time I fell, really fell, I was five years old and had climbed a tree. Up was not a problem. I was confident that I could get down as well. But then my older brother saw me, and I could feel the waves of anxiety coming off of him. What would Mummy say, when she had him promise to look after me, and now I was in the apple tree - really not that high, looking at it from a grown-up’s perspective, but almost able to touch the sky as a child. I was confident before, but Mycroft’s worry made me falter, and I slipped and fell, far enough and uncoordinated enough to hurt, to break a leg and leave me winded and confused. Mycroft was scolded, while I was pampered and bored in bed for weeks.  
  
The drugs were another way of falling, even if I didn’t realise it then. It felt too much like soaring, and while I soared, I forgot about the inevitable come-down. That time, I had help, and picked myself up again.  
  
Since then, I’ve learned to cushion the falls, if they cannot be avoided. To cheat the gravity of a situation, turn falls into flights, to always have a way out. Having someone at my side made things easier for a while. Until the final problem, the fall from grace, and now this. A quite literal fall once again before me, my enemy dead by his own hand behind me, my city spread out below, and there is no way out. At least, that is what I want them to think. But I know there is always a way out, if you look hard enough, think hard enough, and are not afraid to ask for help.  
  
This is my note, John.  
  
Watch me fly.

**Author's Note:**

> First published on tumblr. Never thought I'd write Reichenbach, but then I stumbled on my way to work, and the Muse got an idea and wouldn't let go.


End file.
